Whole Again
by siriusondrun
Summary: A Kurtofsky story in three acts. Spoilers up to "Prom Queen".


**Disclaimer: Glee is nowhere close to being mine. Spoilers up to "Prom Queen".**

* * *

><p>"Remember, wait for me here, all right?"<p>

Dave walked away and Kurt ducked into his classroom. Pencil twirling between his long fingers, Kurt would have liked to think he was calm and unaffected, paying strict attention to the lesson Madame Bueller was presenting. If he was being honest, though, he couldn't have given less of a crap about the subjunctive form of the verb "to learn" when he'd just seen David Karofsky, self-proclaimed duke stud and his former tormentor break down in the middle of the languages hallway. Not to mention the lurch in his chest that had come on the heels of that tiny-but-there smile that had come of Kurt confirming his forgiveness. Kurt's stomach felt heavy and his head was dizzy as he chewed the eraser of his pencil and tried to forget that feeling. It was shock, he told himself, or some kind of residual fear that Dave was going to try to beat Kurt up for making him cry; there was no way that all-too-familiar thud in his chest had anything to do with the identical ones he'd felt with Finn or Blaine. There was just no way, glassy too-vulnerable hazel eyes begging for his approval or no.

When the bell rang, Kurt didn't wait; he hid curled around his binder in the corner of the disabled stall of the bathroom until he was sure Dave would have been shooed on to his next class and escaped home claiming stomachache before anyone could stop him.

* * *

><p>The two of them hooked up once in college.<p>

Both ended up at the same frat house by chance, Kurt tagging along with one of his flatmates who was attempting to drown her recent-breakup sorrows in promiscuity and Dave visiting a group of his buddies who had been pledges that semester. One too many red Solo cups later, the two of them had staggered down Frat Row and ended up at Dave's dormitory.

Too drunk to fuck but just drunk enough to cuddle, they had tangled still clothed together on Dave's bed. A desk lamp was switched on to cast a burnt yellow glow over the room and Third Eye Blind played on Dave's open laptop across the room. Kurt pressed his open palms against Dave's strong chest, flexing and feeling the breath pulsing beneath them, his vision blurring a little as Dave pulled him close. His head tucked into the hollow of Dave's shoulder as the other boy, now somehow inexplicably reaching a point of adulthood faster than Kurt had once thought possible, ran and almost reverent thumb over Kurt's cheekbone again and again. Dave's cheek pressed against his head, a missed patch of scruff rubbing against Kurt's temple, and a string of things came spilling from Dave's lips; things (he'd whisper-slurred a moment before) that he'd ached to say in high school but had been far too afraid to even think.

_You're beautiful._

_Never change, please, never._

_You're amazing._

_So brave._

_Incredible. _

_Beautiful, wonderful, amazing._

_I love you._

Kurt woke up wrapped around Dave's pillow the next morning, more hung over than he could ever remember being and breathing in the woodsy smell of Dave from the fabric of the pillowcase. He opened one eye, trying to find where his bedmate had gone. The in-suite shower was running and as sleep wore off, Kurt could hear a rumbly voice singing softly from inside. He couldn't tell the song, but the melody and bass tones of Dave's voice made him want to stretch and roll over and go back to sleep in this Old-Spice-and-pine-and-Dave smelling bed. There was something just so homey and warm and _safe _about that idea, Kurt thought as his chest went thud.

Kurt was dressed and gone before Dave got out of the shower.

* * *

><p>The walls of McKinley High never seemed to change. They looked the same as they ever had, even though it was nearly nine years since he'd seen them. Kurt ran his fingers over the pastel yellow lockers as he wandered aimlessly. He'd volunteered to be Finn's sober ride home from a Titans reunion celebrating the ten-year anniversary of their championship 2010 season. No matter how many mixed metaphors Coach Beiste had used to illustrate what would happen if alcohol was brought into the fete, nearly everyone had smuggled in some sort of flask to spike the punch. Kurt had tried to sit out the rambling boozy stories of their high school glory, but this hadn't been his world even when it had been his life. And (a traitorous little voice in the back of his head kept saying with too much glee) the only member of the team he'd wanted to see even a little bit had been the only one who didn't RSVP.<p>

Not that he'd wanted to see Dave again any time soon, Kurt thought, crossing his arms tight over his chest and forcing his head up again. They hadn't spoken since the tipsy night of too much personal space invasion. There was no reason to; they'd never been friends before, during, or since and nothing about that hazy sulphur-yellow night had done anything to change that. The ache in his chest was acid reflux and the reason his head swam every time he thought of those brilliant hazel-green-gold eyes was something else entirely explicable that Kurt hadn't found a name for yet. Hypoglycemia, perhaps.

Kurt tripped on a pen lying abandoned in front of a locker bursting half-open with papers and caught himself on a doorframe. He looked up and had to let out a scoff. The French classroom? Really? Didn't the universe have better things to do than line his past up and let him stumble across it bit by bit? Kurt let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. He leaned back against the classroom door and tried to gather himself. He remembered that day too clearly and too often; replaying the barely-contained agony of the scared boy before him and the way he'd ached for just a moment to reach out and break that unspoken distance between them and the hope in those glassy, brilliant eyes. Kurt didn't know what this feeling was, if it was guilt or sympathy or empathy or some kind of affection known only to bleeding hearts and masochists, but the way it kept chasing him over and over again had to mean something.

"Kurt."

The word was a tiny breath in the cacophony of things going on inside his head, but it silenced all of them in an instant. Kurt looked up and his breath hitched. Dave was a little taller than he remembered, and scruffier in a pleasantly rugged sort of way, dressed smartly with a sleek black blazer over a blue teeshirt and dark jeans. That guarded-but-sad expression was unmistakable, though; it was like stepping through a portal in time to when they had belonged under this roof. Seeing him there, now, that strange wary space between them there again even as Dave allowed himself to edge forward was like letting out a breath Kurt had been holding for years. He let himself drop back against the frame and tried not to let it show that he was trembling.

"What're you doing here?" Dave asked quietly.

"I-I was waiting for someone," Kurt said, his voice coming out uncharacteristically weak.

"Oh?" There were those eyes, Kurt thought as he lost himself for a moment again. They were older now, like the rest of him, but nothing could have taken that indescribable color from them.

"Yeah," Kurt said, a slow smile warming his face. "He…he asked me to wait for him here," he continued, locking eyes with Dave and begging him to understand. The expression in those eyes was miles deep, but the way Dave's brows pulled together and his breathing sped up spoke volumes.

"I know I'm a little late," Kurt said, unable to keep his eyes from dropping to the floor. His breath caught in the back of his throat, but he forced himself to keep going. "But I was hoping he'd still have me," he finished, bringing his eyes up to meet Dave's.

There was a moment where existence stood still. Everything dropped out from around the two of them and time stretched out to an impossible length. Then it all ramped back up to speed, like film reel caught in fast-forward.

Kurt found the sides of his face being embraced by large, warm hands as David Karofsky kissed him, hard and fast and raw and perfect. When they pulled apart, their eyes met for a split second before Kurt's hand found the back Dave's neck and pulled the other man down for another, sweeter kiss. Kurt smiled against Dave's lips, almost savoring the achingly wonderful way his chest went thud.


End file.
